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by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: KNBxNBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:42:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: “Shou,” Taiga says his name again, a laugh in his voice. “What are you doing?”





	home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stephanericher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/gifts).



> after [after midnight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11340012), but before(?) [long slow road](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11514651)? (hbd taiga)

_You're the face of Canada._ Shougo has heard it so many times he's lost count. By actors, athletes, politicians, Canadian and otherwise; frankly, it makes him shift a little in his seat. Not because he's humble, but because he's never known how to accept it with anything other than an awkward thank you. Him? The face of _Canada?_ Someone who became well-known by playing a dubious, if not sometimes dirty game? He can't say he has many regrets about that, but compared to the stereotype of Canadians being nice, well. It makes him laugh.

He's seen the shit people say about him online, mostly to go back to China. But that's not where the discomfort lies. Because to Shougo, he's just a basketball player. A lucky one--Toronto in both team and city fit him like a pair of sneakers, broken in just so--but not much more than that. Even if he passed the citizenship test years ago, even if he stays abreast of politics because the discussions with Tatsuya are so much more engaging than expected--Canada is still Gretzky. Canada is maple and Timmy’s at all hours, no match for the independent coffee shops Taiga has taken him to in Chicago, but. Canada is a kindness that has rubbed off on him, to the point where he isn't even bitter anymore.

Canada is home. 

Rogers Arena is home, Toronto is home, the provinces he and Taiga have driven through on the Trans-Canada Highway are home, surfboards strapped to the top of their rented van, on a mission to the coast to see how the waves are up north, then down to L.A. and somehow, back up again. The flatlands and the mountains, the national parks they've stopped to camp and hike in; all of the miles he's logged, they all add up to home.

Their goal is Tofino, a renowned surfing spot way west, but they make a pit stop in Vancouver, to stock up on food and beers and get a proper shower in a hotel, and something pulls at Shougo. He's been missing city life, more than he realized. Taiga can cook damn good over a campfire, but Shougo knows how much better he is over a stove; he misses waking up to the sound of Taiga making breakfast in the morning, the sleepy fondness on Taiga's face when he manages to wake up earlier and do it himself. He wonders if spending part of the offseason away from domesticity, even if it's for a few days, is worth it. But they're back on the road in 24 hours, and he doesn't bother thinking about it much more after that. After all, they are traveling together. 

They keep driving, across a stretch of sea and back onto the land, into the forests outside Nanaimo, setting up camp some unknown number of kilometers away from where they parked. The site has plenty of firewood, so there's no need for them to venture out, but they both still have preworkout lingering in their systems, mixed in with their water so they don't have to buy energy drinks. They could fuck, but Shougo likes doing that at night best, unzipping the front flap of the tent and watching Taiga in the moonlight. If they do it now, they might forget about dinner, or at least forget about it until it's late, and he knows neither of them would want to make a fire then. So they keep hiking.

The sun hasn't set, but the air is cooler out here; Shougo’s got his hoodie on, his hands in the front pocket; Taiga, shorts and a long sleeve shirt. The trail is mostly flat, still muddied by a day old rain. Shougo frowns at the laces on his boot, flopping against the dirt with his steps.

“Hold up,” He tells Taiga, sinking to his knee to retie the laces. Taiga stops a few steps ahead of him. 

“Shou?” Taiga looks back at him, giving him a nod. “You good?”

Shougo nods, glancing at the ground. He sticks his hand back in his pocket, pulling out a small, velvety box.

“Shou,” Taiga says his name again, a laugh in his voice. “What are you doing?”

“I don't have no big speech planned,” Shougo meets Taiga’s gaze, raising his hands up to suggest no harm. “Just hear me out, okay?”

“Okay,” Taiga exhales, attempting to relax with his hands in his pockets. His form is a little rigid, but he's grinning. “Go for it.”

“And rambling doesn't count as a speech, so you better not give me any shit. It's just,” Shougo dips his head, running his palm over his closely trimmed hair. 

“I wanted to do it when we got to the coast, around sunrise. Picturesque, romantic, something special, y’know? But as nice as that sounds, I wasn't sure if that was really me.

“I'm not asking for much. It's still gonna suck sometimes, living from offseason to offseason till we retire for good. But when we do, maybe you could try taking the citizenship test. Or I could--” Shougo closes his eyes and sighs. “I could look at greencard options, if you really wanted me to.

“I know you don't plan on leaving,” Shougo’s voice softens. “I just want to make sure you stay.” Taiga nods, his hands covering his eyes. Shougo stands up.

“You're supposed to start crying after I say it,” Shougo smiles, pulling Taiga into a hug. Taiga wraps his arms around his neck, shoulders shaking with maybe tears, or silent laughter.

“Shou, I--”

“Let me say it, Taiga.”

“You don't have to,” Taiga laughs and lifts his head, eyes rimmed with red. “The answer’s yes. Yes a thousand times over. Yes.”

“I just wanna say ‘marry me’ out loud,” Shougo grumbles, though he can't help smiling back. He kisses Taiga, long and slow and softer than their usual kisses, but not without passion. Then, he pulls back, opening the box to show Taiga a gold ring. No gems; silver would be too similar to the one around his neck, rose gold, a touch too feminine.

“I sized it against one of mine, so it should fit okay,” Shougo tells him, putting the box back in his pocket. He takes Taiga’s hand, leans in for a wisp of a kiss before sliding the ring onto Taiga’s finger. 

Looking at it, he's filled with the sort of pride he feels after getting a new tattoo, of owning something wholly unique to him. Of course he'll share Taiga with the rest of the world, if only to brag about how amazing he is. But this is deeper, in a way Shougo didn't expect. He lifts Taiga’s hand to his lips, kissing the ring. It's different from when Taiga lets him kiss his championship ring. He hopes Taiga feels it, too.

“You'll let me get a matching one for you, won't you, Shou?”

“Not like I want anyone thinking I'm single, so.”

Taiga grins, his hand on Shougo’s chest. He keeps looking between him and the ring, Shougo not so much stealing kisses with Taiga being so eager to offer them. 

“And you'll grow your hair out for the wedding?” Shougo makes a noise against Taiga’s mouth.

“We'll see.”

“And you'll keep it natural if you do?”

“Taiga, what the fuck?” Shougo scoffs, pulling back. “I propose and now you decide it's time to test me?”

“But you look so handsome with the gray!” Taiga pulls him back in, grinning so wide it makes Shougo’s cheeks ache. But it's not like he hasn't been smiling the whole time.

“Just for a few weeks,” Taiga fits a kiss against his jaw, his voice dropping low. “Give me something to hold on to in the honeymoon suite.”

Shougo curses again and wipes at his cheek; Taiga’s always been good at setting him alight, but when he does it on purpose like this, it's--

“I wasn't even thinking about the wedding yet,” Shougo chokes out, his voice thick. He palms Taiga’s ass, fiercely tempted to pick him up and haul him back to the tent right now. From how dilated Taiga’s pupils are, Shougo can't imagine him saying no. It's so easy to see the two of them stumbling down a hotel hallway after their reception, drunk on champagne and their own happiness, Shougo trying his damnedest to bridal carry Taiga, unable to keep their hands off each other. He wants him; he wants this future so bad.

“Hey,” Shougo pats his thighs, his voice going soft. “Hop up. Just for a sec.”

Taiga grins against Shougo’s lips, still kissing him, lips and tongue and teeth, the way he gets when he's feeling possessive, which is something else in itself--Taiga is usually quieter and gentler about it, but, fuck. So what if Shougo sometimes wants it like this?

But Taiga still puts his hands firmly on Shougo’s shoulders, gently pressing until Shougo sinks into a squat. He jumps up, his arms around Shougo’s neck, his legs around the middle of his back. Shougo stands, heaving him up with a touch of exaggeration in his groan. Taiga’s kisses turn soft again, warm and melty like a pat of butter atop a filet, and Shougo won't deny liking how Taiga lets the both of them be vulnerable like this.

“What're you gonna do,” Taiga asks, murmuring against Shougo’s cheek. “Carry me back to the tent like this?”

“Don't be an idiot,” Shougo chastises, pecking his lips. “You're too tall. I can't see the path.”

“What are you gonna do with me when we get back?”

“Taiga,” Shougo looks up at him, tracing the curve of his ass, smirking just enough. “You know I'm gonna treat you right.”

“I wanna know now,” Taiga drags his teeth along Shougo’s lower lip. “In detail.”

“I'm gonna lay you down your stomach--spread your thighs--”

“My stomach?”

“Yeah,” Shougo grins. “You know married couples can only fuck missionary, right?”

“Okay,” Taiga laughs. “But what if I want to watch my fiancè fuck me for the first time?”

“On your side, then,” Shougo amends. “So you can watch.”

Taiga kisses Shougo again, pleased with his answer. He hops down, boots brushing a streak of mud across Shougo’s calf. But Shougo doesn't mind.


End file.
